


Your Skin Makes Cry

by Lillipad760



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn With Plot, Top Castiel (Supernatural), castiel is possesive with his actions not his words, maybe overly affectionate is more appropriate, written to make you so happy you crinkle your nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillipad760/pseuds/Lillipad760
Summary: "When you were here before, Couldn't look you in the eyeYou're just like an angel, Your skin makes me cryYou float like a feather, In a beautiful worldI wish I was special, You're so fuckin' special"I got inspired while listening to Post Modern Jukebox's cover of "Creep" and had to get to writing.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 104
Collections: Destiel Worth Rereading





	Your Skin Makes Cry

Dean knows that he is not _per se_ the most well put together guy. The ability to lie to yourself and others like your life depends on it, which let's be honest here, it often does, has an effect on a person. He's been living with enough self-hate, lack of faith, and if he wants to get really into it, some kind of anxiety about addressing all the other junk plaguing his claustrophobic subconscious. 

For instance, he may talk a big game, bigger than most, when it comes to the ladies. The truth is, he really isn't that into it. He likes a good roll in the hay, but it's much better to have a set bale to roll with. Dean runs an exhausted hand down his face. Even in his own head that doesn't sound clever. 

Okay, he can reason that wanting to settle down is more of a sign of maturity than desperation, but some of his other major character flaws rattle his head just to think about. A beer would help this therapy session for one cruise along, a couple fingers of whiskey would help a hell of a lot better. 

On his way to the cabinet that holds his old buddy Jacky D, the thoughts continue to crash like waves into his focus. Stewing alone with one's thoughts is not all it's cracked up to be. Shocker. Dean supposes it's justice for sticking Sam and Cas with research duty while Jack is tackling the movie list Dean assigned him. Dean can deny that his tendency to hurl himself into the sun at any major problem they face is a byproduct of not enough esteem and too many tally marks on the wrong side of the karma board. Too many people have gone through too much for Dean to feel like he _deserves_ something good. What does it matter one way or the other if he can do some good with the excuse for a soul he has left. He was the first seal to the apocalypse, he practically watched Ellen and Jo, and countless others, die for his sake, and he went from a demon to Micheal's meat suit in a matter of years. 

Speaking of, he never mentioned to anyone what really happened during his demon days, and he prefers to keep it that way. The things he allowed himself to want, no to _do_. It's hard for any man to face his demons showing their faces, pun intended. 

Dean chuckles to himself as he pours another helping of whiskey into his glass, tiling it around in his hands with a shrug. He downs it and grabs the bottle instead. 

The way he talked to people, the things he and Crowley did as a team. It still makes him sick. The only positive, if you can call it that, is that Dean had to address how he really felt about men. Don't get him wrong, he didn't much care for acknowledging the whole demon thing at all for at least a year, then Mom popped back up. Basically he had to wait a few years for the totem pole of unearthed desires to get to it, but now it's all he's got left. He could continue to ignore it but the itch under his skin isn't going anywhere fast. 

A hand slides against his chin and back to rest on his neck. He's going to get a tension headache if he doesn't either shut this down or drink faster. He takes a swig. 

Sure he's always had an idea about it. Maybe his hate for Fred was more about how charming he was and less about the fact Dean wanted a stab at Daphne, not that both can't be true. Beyond that, Dean can count out all the times he's checked a guy out when there were more than one pretty, willing females around. but he doesn't have enough fingers and toes.

With a sigh, Dean tilts his head back and glances towards the direction of the library. He listens for any sounds of footsteps or prying ears. Nothing 

Dean takes another gulp and uses the burn to spur him into moving his throat a little. In the safe, empty space of the kitchen, he mumbles to himself "I'm bisexual." He looks around to make sure no laughing or disgusted faces will magically appear from the dark spot in the corner. Still nothing. He chuckles in a strange mix of delirium and numbness. 

"I'm bi." 

It feels nice just to say out loud, to hear bounce back into his head. It's so much less threatening when it isn't snarled at you from the depth of your "No touching box" in the back of your head. 

"I like guys, I like chicks, no one is safe from _the_ Dean Winchester." Maybe he can get used to this. He remembers Mom telling him about a lesbian couple she used to know in Lawrance. Thinking back maybe neither of them was as subtle as they wanted to be. 

This was long overdue, so luckily with the help of some liquid courage, Dean didn't have as much trouble as he thought to let it out. The relief is short-lived for all the damn buildup. The real reason he felt so pressed to deal with that issue is the much bigger, much trickier one that won't leave Dean alone. Castiel. 

Dean can only wake up with the lingering memories of stubble and a firm hand on his shoulder so many times before it weighs on him. He can hardly keep track of Cas' abilities as the years wax and wane them, but either way, Dean is thankful Cas doesn't talk to him in his dreams anymore. That would be too hard to explain. Dean rubs his temple as the headache that was promised to him starts to deliver. He takes another drink he pretends will help. 

How is he supposed to confront a thing like that? Sure Cas is more than happy to share space with Dean, which he used to chock up to his lack of social understanding, even as he started to do it less with others but not with Dean. He always assumed that was just because he complained less than everyone else and he knew Cas better. The dude never responded well to attention from the ladies anyways. Dean smiles fondly to himself as he recalls the time he dragged Cas to a brothel. He looked scared to death and completely disinterested. He really is a dorky, powerful, grown-up little guy. 

Dean knows love comes in many shades. He loves his family, blood and found. He loved Lisa as much as he could at the time. He loved Ben enough to learn to love Lisa. He would be lying to himself, which as addressed is easier than it should be, if he said he loved anyone like he loves Cas. He loves him like family, like a best friend, and like a future he doesn't believe he can have. He loves Cas like he loves a perfect daydream the second before it slips through his fingers as the present catches up to him. 

Dean knows he's a coward. He's a pale faced scaredy-cat who can't manage to do more than sulk in his own head until he gets tired of weighing the options and buries everything back down again. He's getting too tired for this, he refuses to use the "O-word" to describe himself yet. Jack's lucky he had an excuse for that one case with the zombie boyfriend. He's getting off-topic. Case in point; a coward. 

Dean decides if he's going to be both honest with himself, more booze chased by a chuckle at that notion, and a coward, he may as well make it count. He'll pray. He knows Cas has always had Dean on reverse speed dial. The dude seems to tune everything else out when Dean used what's left of his faith to talk to him. He got so close to telling him last time he prayed to him. There's no harm in a tried and true method huh? 

Dean chugs a glass of water and grabs his keys. He doesn't want to be anywhere Cas can try to have a face to face for this conversation. As he's turning Baby on and rolling down the windows he takes a deep breath. 

"Cas? Buddy? I know you're looking up some stuff on Nephilims with Sam but I have something important to tell you. Keep a straight face or get somewhere private. Don't come sniffing me down either, left my phone at the bunker on my way out the door." Dean bites his bottom lip in frustration. He sounds like he's angry and he's trying not to freak Castiel out here. As much as possible. 

"I'm not mad at you or anything like that. Chuck knows I've said some really crappy things to you over the years. Fuck that guy by the way. What I'm trying to say is, you mean more to me than any of the other family I've collected over the years like Indiana Jones and his artifacts. You have more heart than I've ever seen and more faith than I ever had. You care and you show that you do in your own way. You know that I need you around, that your family, but I'm not sure I've made it clear why." Dean stairs at the open road ahead of him, he feels like the rock that just bounced off of Baby's tire. He pretends he's still just talking out loud to himself. 

"I love you Castiel. Not the mushy, chick flick kind of way, but my kind of love. I want to watch dumb movies together and teach you the names of all the band members when I show you music. I want to make you smile and I want to wake up next to you. Damnit Cas." He turns the Impala down a stretch of road that's so abandoned that grass has started to take it back over. 

"I want you to feel like somethings missing when I'm not around because that's how I feel when you leave. And I know I'm a coward and my soul is more beat-up even than the rest of me, but it's all yours if for some reason you want me. You really are an angel Cas, no matter what happens. To me at least, whatever that counts for." The field he finds himself in is a peaceful one or would be if he was in any other state of mind. The weeds and grass tall enough to sway in the breeze that tickles his cheeks through the open windows. 

"It doesn't matter much what I want, because what I want more than anything is for you to be happy Cas. I want to make you happy. You deserve that. I'm going for a drink and I'll be back at the bunker eventually. Think about it and you'll have plenty of time to pack up and ship out before I get back." Deans is perfectly aware he overstepped his boundaries and over pushed his luck, but a dying man can dream. He pulls Baby into reverse and heads to the farthest bar he can name. 

* * *

Dean does not condone drinking and driving, but tipsy and driving is a necessary skill as far as he's concerned. How the Winchesters describe "tipsy" isn't something he needs to address right now. The only thing he has on his mind is the lie he's picked up to tell Sam about why Cas disappeared on them again. Trouble in heaven or something like that. Looking for information on God. Anything that flows. 

When Dean stumbles into the bunker, patting Baby affectionately as he slips past her, he isn't expecting the tan trenchcoat he knows so well to flip it's way from the table to the stairs before Dean is even halfway down them. 

He doesn't want to look him in the eye. "Cas, no hard feelings, right? We can just. Breeze on past th- Oof!" Cas wraps him up in one of those clinging hugs they've shared before. The shorter man tucks his head into Dean's shoulder and clutches at his flannel. He smells like sunlight."You do make me happy, Dean. Expect for when you choose to be completely obnoxious. I gave up my old life for you, most of my old family. You've always been worth it Dean. I believe that I have loved you for a rather long time." Dean pretends he doesn't feel his eyes start to itch. He lets go and clears his throat. He can't think of anything to say. Before he can even try to, Castiel pulls back and slides his hands around Dean's face. 

"Beautiful," he says more to the air around them than to Dean as he leans in to kiss the righteous man. Dean leans into it, soft and meaningful at first. That is until the longing and the need crawls its way from the pit of Dean's stomach to the ache in his chest through to their kiss. He wraps his arms tighter around Castiel, who is leaner than his coat would lead on, and pulls him as close as they can be with the layers between them. Dean deepens the kiss with a swipe of the tongue along Cas's lip. The angel makes a soft, pleased noise at the change in pace as Dean searches for more contact. Cas, having put Dean back together a decade ago and healing him countless times since then seems to know every button to push. He grasps at the hair towards the back of Dean's skull. Dean can't tell if he minds the stale beer on his tongue, but Cas shows no signs of hesitancy as his dances with Dean's.

Their passions don't simmer even as Castiel steps away, heat blooming in Dean's gut at the look in his dark, blue eyes. "Bedroom." The gravel in his voice is deeper than Dean expected upon hearing him aroused, but it didn't leave room for discussion. Not that he was fighting it. They briskly walk to Dean's room, as it's closer and he has the lube. They aren't attached at the mouth, but they stand so close together they continue to bump into each other and they're eyes never stray from the other long, roaming like their hands twitch to. They push through the door with Cas kissing his way from Dean's ear to his jaw, fanning the desire streaming to his groin like fire. Dean faintly hears the door click behind him over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. Clothes intertwine in a heap on the floor as their owners do the same on the bed not two feet away. 

Castiel is affectionate with his hands as much as with his words. He mutters his praise of every detail of Dean he kisses or holds, both of them half starved and half reverent. Dean removes the hand that was memorizing the soft hairs on Castiel's thigh to reach under his pillow for the lube. He has a small piece of mind to thank past Dean for the lazy clean up last night as he pops open the cap. Cas looks up with an excited quirk to his eyebrow. 

"For me or for you?" He asks. Dean licks his lips and allows his eyes to rave over Cas's exposed figure. He smiles. 

"Me." He winks as he pours the lube onto his newly freed other hand. Castiel busies himself leaving bruises along Dean's chest in the most distracting way possible. Dean pushes the first finger in just as Castiel decides to pay attention to Dean's nipples, one with his tongue, the other with his thumb. This way, they work together to loosen Dean in a cloud of anticipation and the buzz under his skin for more. Once he feels either stretched out or impatient enough to call it quits, he takes his dry hand and puts it on the side of Cas's face, now by his stomach to capture his attention. 

"Ready when you are, Angel." Castiel's smirk makes a thrill run along Dean's spine. Cas leans up, only breaking eye contact to line himself up, he slowly slides into Dean. The dull, almost burning pressure is just right, Dean's eyes fluttering closed with the intensity. His erection sits heavy against his stomach, he gives it a couple of tugs as Cas capture his lips again until Dean is adjusted to the new stretch. He flexes his abs enough to slide Cas half out and pushes back, Cas thrusting forward on instinct to meet him. That's all the encouragement Castiel needs. 

They push and grind together, leaving kisses and heavy breaths against each other's cheek and neck and forehead. Anywhere they can reach as they move together. The tension in Dean only building until it has nowhere to go but out through the groans he can't hold back. He feels where Castiel left love marks starting to prickle as their rhythm stunts. Castiel creates distance between Dean and himself so he can see his face. Dean watches Cas fight to keep his eyes open as pleasure courses through them, building. Castiel slides a hand around Dean's mad, pink member, catching Dean up to Castiel's lack of control. They become a mess of sensation as time loses meaning. Castiel cums first, length deep, nudging Dean's prostate. He never stops moving fully, but his strokes become more grinds than thrusts as he rides out the shock waves in a blissful trance. Dean only needs a few more pulses against that pleasure spot and strokes of Castiel's wrist before he pools between his stomach and Cas's firm fingers. 

They breathe together, chasing their pleasure into a satiated calm. Castiel pulls out and Dean clutches toward his side with his eyes droopy, reaching for the rag from last night. Thank you again lazy, horny, last night Dean. He half-heartedly cleans up what he needs to, resolving to shower in the morning. They disentangle long enough for Castiel to slip on a pair of Dean's lounge pants and Dean to adorn his robe so they can brush their teeth. When they slide back into bed, Dean smiles at Castiel, admiring the intricacy of his eyes. He doesn't think he's ever been so familiar just staring into someone else like he is with Cas. He kisses his nose, then his cheek, then a tender kiss to his lips. 

"I love you, Dean," Castiel says with a shine in his eyes. 

"Love you too, Cas."

* * *

Dean sits down at the breakfast table. He woke up relaxed and happy with an arm full of angel to admire, even though he doesn't feel like he deserves him. He sets a plate of eggs and a heap of bacon in front of him, Castiel had brought him over a cup of coffee already, Sam walks in as Dean lifts Castiels hand in his to kiss the back of it. Dean catches the inquisitive lift of Sam's eyebrow and the slight knowing purse of his lips. 

"Morning Sammy!" Dean exclaims with a cheeky smile, "I'm bi!" 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I lost the touch for writing a while back but I hope to spark something back up with this one!


End file.
